So, the word is out. And it’s true, I’m a pastor again. And there are so many stories I want to share about how it all happened, and what happened, and why it happened… ya know, the happenings, but I am finishing up my finals for the Winter Quarter at Fuller, so I’ll keep this post brief (I just finished the post, and realized it’s not brief at all… sorry).
Back when I got ordained I got a nice fancy piece of paper that said “Alex Jackson is hereby ordained as a Minister of the Gospel”, one of the ladies at the church even took time to decorate it with glitter markers so you knew it was really extra special. When you go through an ordination process it requires that you really consider what God has called you to do, and when I was ordained I knew that it wasn’t just for one church, and it wasn’t just as a Youth Pastor, it was forever. From that day on I was a Minister of the Gospel, no matter the circumstances. It was a call I received from God, and you can’t just be un-called. It’s not like Jonah was chilling in the whale thinking “great! I totally got out of that mess! Now I’ll never have to go to Nineveh.” No, it was more like “well… I guess God does get what He wants.”
But let me tell ya, these last few months tested that to my very core. As I attended Fuller I kept on having to write about my calling and where God wanted me, all the while I was floating around from different jobs, learning how to be a dad, and not know what the future would look like.
Showing posts with label life of a youth pastor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life of a youth pastor. Show all posts
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Friday, March 13, 2015
Life as a Pastor's Wife...Again
A few weeks ago, Alex was hired as the Youth Pastor at Community Church of Big Bear. With that comes so much joy and excitement, and also reminders of our life before. Before we were so hurt by a church that I didn't know how I would step foot in one again. Before we lost our home, our friends, our security, our dreams. It is bittersweet to be so reminded of the ministry we had in Kansas. This new life in Big Bear has taken the sting and pain that we've been living with since last summer, and even before, and transforming it. God is taking our story of pain and proving to us that He was in it, and that He has so much more than that for us. Our dreams there were small, and He wanted bigger. Our idea of joy was paltry compared to what we are now experiencing, and this new joy is nothing compared to what He has in store for us.
The past 6 months have been so full of change and uncertainty. And that hasn't completely gone away, but I have been seeing God answer prayers that I didn't even have the words to pray. We are being healed at this church in Big Bear. Alex is experiencing affirmation that is so new and foreign to him that he almost can't believe it. We have already been embraced into new friendships with people who are genuine and transparent, the kind of people that I hope I am. We have met an amazing group of youth kids who in so many ways remind us of the kids in Kansas that we loved and still love, but who are also fiercely unique and lovable.
The past 6 months have been so full of change and uncertainty. And that hasn't completely gone away, but I have been seeing God answer prayers that I didn't even have the words to pray. We are being healed at this church in Big Bear. Alex is experiencing affirmation that is so new and foreign to him that he almost can't believe it. We have already been embraced into new friendships with people who are genuine and transparent, the kind of people that I hope I am. We have met an amazing group of youth kids who in so many ways remind us of the kids in Kansas that we loved and still love, but who are also fiercely unique and lovable.
Friday, October 10, 2014
How I Got Here pt. 3- “It Ends How it Begins”
**Author’s Note: This is the last part of the “How I Got Here” series, and it ends how it begins. If I boiled the answer down to it’s simplest form, it would be “I was called.” How did I get here? I was called. I’m sure the Memento-style blog posting will come to an end, and hopefully we’ll go back to a regular chronology for future posts. If you’re confused, it may be nice to read this in reverse order, starting with this one. Thanks again for reading!**
Sometimes I imagine God like a childhood friend tapping on my window. It’s cracked open just a bit, and I can hear him saying “hey. Hey Alex! You sleepin’?” It’s this soft whisper that’s packed with all sorts of adventure. It’s dark out. I should be sleeping, but how can I?
Vocatio, the Latin word, or kaleō, the Greek. They mean calling. Our lives are wrapped up in our callings. Where do we go, and why? Our calling is the source of so many of our choices, and our choices are the only proof of our convictions. A man who has the conviction to help children understand the joy in the world may have the job of a puppeteer. If you saw this same man working at the IRS offices you’d likely think “hmmm… maybe he didn’t really care about kids that much.” This is what I mean when I say our choices are the only proof of our convictions.
People take tests about vocation. They see counselors, they talk to certified vocation professionals. My wife says that some even take quizzes on “Kickinitteenstyle.com” (Unlike her, I don’t watch The Middle). But I see it differently, or maybe I should say I hear it differently.
“Have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? I hear them calling my name. Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailor, the voice may be one in the same.”
It may not seem like the best way to make big life choices, but when I hear a voice calling me in the night, I go. Like Calvin hearing Hobbes knocking at the window, adventure awaits.
Sometimes I imagine God like a childhood friend tapping on my window. It’s cracked open just a bit, and I can hear him saying “hey. Hey Alex! You sleepin’?” It’s this soft whisper that’s packed with all sorts of adventure. It’s dark out. I should be sleeping, but how can I?
Vocatio, the Latin word, or kaleō, the Greek. They mean calling. Our lives are wrapped up in our callings. Where do we go, and why? Our calling is the source of so many of our choices, and our choices are the only proof of our convictions. A man who has the conviction to help children understand the joy in the world may have the job of a puppeteer. If you saw this same man working at the IRS offices you’d likely think “hmmm… maybe he didn’t really care about kids that much.” This is what I mean when I say our choices are the only proof of our convictions.
People take tests about vocation. They see counselors, they talk to certified vocation professionals. My wife says that some even take quizzes on “Kickinitteenstyle.com” (Unlike her, I don’t watch The Middle). But I see it differently, or maybe I should say I hear it differently.
“Have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? I hear them calling my name. Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailor, the voice may be one in the same.”
It may not seem like the best way to make big life choices, but when I hear a voice calling me in the night, I go. Like Calvin hearing Hobbes knocking at the window, adventure awaits.
Monday, October 6, 2014
How I Got Here pt. 2 or "Goodness, gracious! How did you lose your job?”
I have to admit, this is hard for me to write. I put it off for a number of weeks in the hope that getting some distance from the issue may help me put words to all of it. I struggled with feeling that I should simply let sleeping dogs lie, and that if the dust had settled on this issue, what was the point in stirring it up again?
But the dust never truly settled. I still find the occasional speck falling in my eye, causing irritation and affecting my vision. Often, in order to clean a room of all that has built up overtime, our task is to kick up the dust once more, and hope it falls elsewhere… like in the trashcan, or under the rug.
But the dust never truly settled. I still find the occasional speck falling in my eye, causing irritation and affecting my vision. Often, in order to clean a room of all that has built up overtime, our task is to kick up the dust once more, and hope it falls elsewhere… like in the trashcan, or under the rug.
Monday, September 29, 2014
How I Got Here pt. 1, or With the Faith of a Mustard Seed you can Move to the Mountains
Maybe it’s just a mistranslation, like a jot or tittle got erased somewhere along the way and we’ve been thinking of this whole thing wrong for years.
Maybe it’s “with the faith of a mustard seed, you can move to the mountains.”
That makes a lot of sense for me at least.
See, I want to tell you the story. I want to tell you about how I ended up in a completely different place, looking at unfamiliar ceilings, and fighting with God a lot. But as I try to find the beginning of the story, it seems like it is always eluding me. The puzzle still seems incomplete no matter how many pieces I add. So, I’m going to start at the end, and like the years of BC we’ll just keep counting up while going backwards until maybe we find where this whole thing started.
Let’s start with how I got to the mountains.
Maybe it’s “with the faith of a mustard seed, you can move to the mountains.”
That makes a lot of sense for me at least.
See, I want to tell you the story. I want to tell you about how I ended up in a completely different place, looking at unfamiliar ceilings, and fighting with God a lot. But as I try to find the beginning of the story, it seems like it is always eluding me. The puzzle still seems incomplete no matter how many pieces I add. So, I’m going to start at the end, and like the years of BC we’ll just keep counting up while going backwards until maybe we find where this whole thing started.
Let’s start with how I got to the mountains.
Monday, September 22, 2014
This Sucks.
This sucks.
There was this student at the church I worked at who was passionate about service. We had just finished a conference where we focused on the power of God’s grace and how it should encourage us to serve all people, no matter what their background or current situation was. The last day of the conference was on Sunday, so we had some students share stories in the main service about what happened. He stood up in front of the whole church and said something that would completely rock my world.
“Without grace, we would be screwed.”
That’s true, isn’t it?
Is there anyway to live this life without grace? Without forgiveness? And if there is a way to live without those things, is that a life worth living?
The need for grace, and the recognition of that need are the basis of the Christian faith. Grace should change the world, and knowing that we need it, that without it we would be screwed… well that’s something that should turn your whole life upside down.
So I wasn’t surprised to hear that people were upset about what he said. I was just surprised at what specifically upset them.
“screwed.”
It’s lewd language. It’s crass. It’s immature. It’s sexual, and aggressive, and it’s just wrong. So we don’t say it in church, and if we do we need to learn better, and grow out of our childishness and become true Christians.
There was this student at the church I worked at who was passionate about service. We had just finished a conference where we focused on the power of God’s grace and how it should encourage us to serve all people, no matter what their background or current situation was. The last day of the conference was on Sunday, so we had some students share stories in the main service about what happened. He stood up in front of the whole church and said something that would completely rock my world.
“Without grace, we would be screwed.”
That’s true, isn’t it?
Is there anyway to live this life without grace? Without forgiveness? And if there is a way to live without those things, is that a life worth living?
The need for grace, and the recognition of that need are the basis of the Christian faith. Grace should change the world, and knowing that we need it, that without it we would be screwed… well that’s something that should turn your whole life upside down.
So I wasn’t surprised to hear that people were upset about what he said. I was just surprised at what specifically upset them.
“screwed.”
It’s lewd language. It’s crass. It’s immature. It’s sexual, and aggressive, and it’s just wrong. So we don’t say it in church, and if we do we need to learn better, and grow out of our childishness and become true Christians.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Corn Chowder with Beef Sausage
This is the season of soups. Thanks to my handy dandy immersion blender, I've made at least 5 new (to me) types of soup this year. I've never made soup in my life (unless you count opening a can and putting it on the stove) so this is a big step for me.
Tonight, I'm making a meaty corn chowder. The recipe is from Laura, one of my closest friends, and I am SO glad she introduced me to this soup. I made it when Caleb and Louisa visited, and then again for the kids in the Youth Worship band. Every Sunday after church, Alex leads the band practice and I heat up something for lunch that I generally cook the night before. They've had this soup once a couple months ago and loved it, so I figured it was time to whip it up again.
I even have a little helper at my feet.
Start by slicing up 2 packages of Beef Sausage into 1/2" discs. Then quarter those discs. (Nice and bite sized.)
Brown the sausage in a skillet. Drain most of the fat once they've been cooking for a few minutes. I like getting them REALLY browned...even a little black. But that's just me. Add 2 chopped onions. If you have any tricks for chopping onions in a way that prevents crying, please tell me in the comments. Please.
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